The Ranger's Fall
by iceandfire105
Summary: "Why do you try to stop me?" he asked, swinging at her again. "I have the key. I will get through." "You will only ever set foot in Silvermoon over my dead body," she retorted. The ranger's final stand. Some dialogue referenced from Warcraft 3: Reign of Chaos & Warcraft 3: Frozen Throne. All rights belong to Blizzard. The cover doesn't belong to me.


_**The Ranger's Fall  
**_

'Lady Sylvanas.'

The ranger general was standing upon a low cliff overlooking Arthas' continued onslaught. He hadn't gotten through to the gates, and she was never going to let him. She turned to the messenger; a slight girl, fifteen perhaps, with fair hair.

'Yes?'

'The runner has been slain. The same has happened to the one before her.'

Sylvanas closed her eyes. Their losses would be mourned, certainly. But she needed the message to get through to Silvermoon.

She could see Arthas pressing his attack in the distance. The high elves wouldn't be able to hold them off for long. Sooner or later, the death knight was going to break through their defences and target the city. He had larger numbers, and whenever one of her own soldiers fell, his vile necromancers would raise them as their own; a mindless corpse, hungry for slaughter. She took a breath and made up her mind.

'Push the attack. Send another runner through, but further behind the lines. If we hold them back long enough, the runner should reach the city safely.'

The girl nodded and left. Sylvanas walked down the slope, back to her troops. She was going to join this assault. Her soldiers needed all the help they could get.

* * *

She stood before the group, removing her bow from her back and holding it securely in her hand.

'We are going to slay them!' she yelled. Answering cries came from both the skies and the ground; she had many troops, and she was going to make sure they would win. 'We are going to slay every last one of them for defiling our lands and _our people!_'

And so she led her troops into battle, as she had done many times beforehand.

They charged down to Arthas' base encampment, swiftly joining up with the attack she had sent down only minutes earlier. They came crashing down upon his ranks like a hailstorm, unexpected and violent.

'Did you forget about us, you wretches?' she cried. She ran towards the leader himself, nocking an arrow as she did so. 'Bash'a no falor talah!'

He swore viciously at her, drew that cursed blade of his – Frostmourne – and swung. Sylvanas dodged it and released her grip on her bowstring, the arrow hitting his armour with a dull _thunk_. Undeterred, she drew another from her quiver. Arthas' face curled into a cruel sneer, and he swung again. The sword nicked her arm, drawing blood.

'Why do you try to stop me, ranger?' he asked silkily, swinging at her again. 'I have the key. I _will_ get through.'

'You will only ever set foot in Silvermoon over my dead body,' she retorted.

'So be it.'

She pulled out her own sword and parried his blow, wincing when she felt the power of the blade course through her weapon and into her. She drew away and swung again, this time landing a blow on a small line of exposed flesh on his arm. Arthas roared, and his face set into a horrible glare.

'You will_ die_, General.'

'If I die, I will die honourably.'

She had to lead him away from the battle - finish him off elsewhere. Slowly edging her way into a thicket of trees, she continued dodging or deflecting his blows. She did not try to fight back. Not yet. Arthas seemed to take this as a sign of weakness, and continued pressing her backwards.

Arthas swore as though he had just realised something - or had been told by something Sylvanas couldn't hear - and swung more viciously, more violently, while Sylvanas felt a rush of euphoria at his recklessness.

Deciding that they were far enough away from the battle, she began returning equally deadly blows.

'I salute your bravery, elf,' he said, 'but the chase is over.'

'Then I'll make my stand here, butcher. Anar'alah belore.' She spat at him.

He seemed to finally become impatient with her. So quickly that she didn't see it coming, he smacked her over the head with the butt of his sword and she tumbled to the ground. He put a steel boot to her chest, keeping her down, and leered over her. His white hair – blonde once – hung limp, making his grey face appear even more demonic. He put more pressure on her chest, robbing her of breath.

She had known him when he was human, when he was pure; though he may not know it. _Teranas_, she thought. _What happened? This is not the son you raised. This man is corrupted. _

'Finish it!' she gasped. 'I deserve . . . a clean death.'

'After all you've put me through, woman,' he murmured, 'the last thing I'll give you is the peace of death.'

She felt all the blood drain from her face. He wouldn't . . . not this . . .

'No!' she whispered. 'You wouldn't dare!'

He brought his blade so it hovered above her chest. She closed her eyes. She was completely at his mercy now. And she hated it. There was no use in struggling; this was what fate had determined for her. To become just like the rest of her kin who had been slaughtered by the Undead. One of them.

The muscles in his arms tensed.

_Give my regards to hell, you son of a bitch. _The blade plunged through her chest.

The words she would say when she would finally end him.

* * *

**Please note that part of this uses dialogue from the Warcraft 3: Reign Of Chaos mission "The Fall Of Silvermoon". The "give my regards to hell" bit is from Frozen Throne, too. I'm not _that_ original.  
**


End file.
